The American advantage

from Hemmings Classic Car

A recent one-week vacation was anything but relaxing, unless you call laying on your back on a concrete floor a rejuvenating experience.
The first day of my summer vacation started off with my daughter's car dying at 1:30 a.m., the result of a shot alternator, and this was a mere four days after the alternator in another of our cars died. The next day, a check-engine warning lamp glowed yellow on the family's minivan, while its rear shocks decided to quit working completely after some 134,000 miles. That same day, a headlamp bulb on our newest car went dark. Oh, and there were the two oil changes that were scheduled to be done, too.
And just for the fun of it, the old Ford decided to get in on the action as well, when I found a freeze plug to my newly rebuilt 302 V-8 resting quietly on the ground.
So after going through nearly two rolls of shop towels, several gallons of citrus green iced tea and a pound of strawberry Twizzlers, everything got fixed, although it took all of my vacation time to do it.
The most significant thing I discovered, confirming my previously held belief, is just how well General Motors cars were engineered, designed and manufactured. Of course, few people today would believe this, since they're judging solely by what they hear from the ignorant drive-by media who consistently bash GM cars; they know not what they preach. If only they would spend some time working on a GM-built car, then do the same on a Japanese or German-made car, they would discover firsthand GM's engineering superiority over all other brands.
And I do mean all others: I came to this firm conclusion after my week of repairing all the family cars, and there's quite a cross-section represented. Of the six cars that I worked on, two were American-made--my 1982 Ford LTD station wagon and my 1961 Pontiac Ventura; the British car was a 1972 Triumph Spitfire and the German brand was a 2006 New Beetle. A 1992 Volvo 240 wagon represented the Swedish contingent, while the Japanese-built vehicle was a 2002 Mazda MPV. Working on each vehicle gave me insight into the peculiarities of each country's approach to manufacturing automobiles.
Apart from the very basic Triumph, none of the above imported vehicles are poorly engineered--in most cases, they were, in fact, over-engineered, especially the VW and Volvo. And that's not a positive thing. Simplicity has its virtues, which is why I enjoy restoring British and American cars so much.
The Volvo is well constructed in a tank-like way, but many of the engine's ancillary components are attached to the block in a very stupid fashion. Consider its adjustable alternator bolt, which easily bends and breaks: not so much like the overly complicated German way of bolting things together, but just plain dumb. Even Volvo's method of attaching rear shocks to the lower control arms is too complicated, when a simple bolt fitted in a GM-like manner would have worked better.
The Germans seem to like making things complex just to show off their engineering aptitude; unfortunately the end result rarely justifies the means. It took me nearly one hour to figure out how to replace the headlamp bulb in our New Beetle. My only break came when I sat down and said to myself, "Rich, you're not working on a Triumph, so think like a German."
That's when I realized that German efficiency wouldn't force a mechanic to remove the air box and battery just to access a headlamp bulb. So after I spotted the nearly hidden locking mechanism and release lever, the entire headlamp assembly quickly slid out, which permitted me to replace the bulb in a minute. It just took an hour to find!
The Japanese way is fairly straightforward--they do things much the same as Detroit would, which was refreshing. Not much to complain about, although most of the mechanical parts could be a little heftier in their construction.
On the other hand, the British did things the exact opposite way the Germans did. Basic mechanicals, almost to the point of being primitive, can be a redeeming quality, which makes working on these cars quite enjoyable. I know that Triumphs were just basic, low-cost sports cars and not as well-built as, say Bentleys or Rovers, but it still amazes me how poorly many parts were made. Not mechanical parts so much as the electrical parts: Poorly designed, non-waterproof push-on connectors to join separate wiring harnesses and inadequately crafted grounding methods result in poor reliability and durability.
Compared to these imported cars, working on my Ford LTD is a refreshing breeze, even though it's a 1980s model with miles of maddening vacuum lines. Every component, mechanical or electrical, is sturdy and well made. Best of all, everything drops into place quite easily. I'm not crazy about the engine's serpentine belt and pulley setup, or the poorly designed method employed to attach the overdrive transmission's throttle-valve rod to the carburetor, but the Ford engineers nonetheless had a rather common-sense approach to their designs.
But like I said, the real prize goes to General Motors for taking a truly common-sense approach to engineering parts. Whether it's my '61 Ventura or '64 Le Mans, or even my old '78 Electra or the 1999 Saturn that I bought new, alternators are easy to install and adjust, working on brakes and suspensions is a breeze and the fasteners are top quality. GM's straightforward, no-nonsense way of making parts, bolting them on and connecting them to each other is a welcome relief from the unnecessarily complex European approach.
That is why my next project is going to be either a '49 or '57 Cadillac or a Fifties-era Buick. You just can't beat GM.

This article originally appeared in the November, 2009 issue of Hemmings Classic Car.